


you make it hurt a little less

by antihero117400



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Probably ooc, angst??? kinda???, author channeling not nice feelings into Sakusa kiyoomi, no beta we die like men, will writing fanfics cure my loneliness? idk let’s find out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:06:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26428324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antihero117400/pseuds/antihero117400
Summary: A lot of things scared Sakusa Kiyoomi. Getting the flu. Losing the scant freedom he’d found in volleyball. Relinquishing control to the unknown.But most of all, he was scared of the passage of time.(or, I take my loneliness and feelings of being out of control of time and project it onto Sakusa)
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	you make it hurt a little less

**Author's Note:**

> uh, hey, thanks for clicking i guess
> 
> it’s my first fic, so any constructive criticism will be appreciated :)
> 
> the sakuatsu brain rot has reached a critical stage and this is a cry for help
> 
> oh and uh, I hope you enjoy!

A lot of things scared Sakusa Kiyoomi. Getting the flu. Losing the scant freedom he’d found in volleyball. Relinquishing control to the unknown.

But most of all, he was scared of the passage of time. 

He could feel it slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass. Life trickled downwards in the motion of a river running to the ocean, to recycle itself back into the sea, surrendering to the lull and push of the waves until it rose back to the sky to begin the cycle again. It ebbed and flowed, twisting unexpectedly and rambling through faster than human perception before slowing to a crawl, fast as the grass grows. And the unstoppable river of time kept tumbling over itself to hurtle towards some indescribable end.

That was scary. And considering the inevitability of it all, Kiyoomi truly held no control.

High school started after a long drag through middle school, then dissolved before Kiyoomi realised time could be so fickle. From there, it was all a free fall backwards with no breaks. College broke his spine with some unnameable fear, only for the Jackals to mend that hurt somewhat, though it lingers at the apex of his ribs with stabs of longing, or restlessness. He couldn’t quite tell the difference between the two just yet. This wound could be almost undetectable during competing season, but would blossom into thorns in the stagnant still of their off season. Kiyoomi couldn’t pinpoint it, what clenches him tight til he can feel an almost real sensation, and releases with syncopated repetition.

It wasn’t until a moment he spent, bathed in the golden wash of the setting sun, with Atsumu, that he realised he knew the name of this feeling.

~~~

They were perched on the crest of a hill, in full view of any gods that could be spectating. The evening glow painted Atsumu in such a way that Kiyoomi was tempted to hold the memory in his head for a lifetime. 

They weren’t doing anything; they hadn’t really talked the entire time they walked to the park. Just Kiyoomi following Atsumu to the spot he picked in the cool air. The silence didn’t hang heavy around them, more cocooned them in a bubble of stillness neither of them were used to. Kiyoomi was usually too fearful of the world to peer beyond the chaotic fog that billowed around him to find this kind of space. Atsumu was usually talking too much.

But they’d lost an important match and consequently lost the season, and neither of them felt they could hide from the fleeting nature of life on earth. So Atsumu knocked on Kiyoomi’s door, and led him with a pinch of jacket material to this little gold corner of the universe to sit in utter silence.

Kiyoomi didn’t entirely know at first why Atsumu had invited him, but looking at Atsumu: the downward lilt of his lips, the hand resting over his heart, the wrinkle in his forehead...

Maybe. Maybe something was clutching Atsumu the same way something was clutching Kiyoomi. Maybe it was the same thing. 

Kiyoomi turned away, and for a moment, thought about it. This feeling. He didn’t like to think about it - it was a hulking shadow trailing after him, leaving inky footprints. But the more he thought about it, reaching out towards it felt more and more like two ends of string meeting in the middle, instead of two different pieces connecting.

He thought about the team. The space they occupy. The space they leave for him. The life they embody in their words, and passions, and motions. He thought about the space left when they’re gone. The emptiness of that vast space. The lack of life around him when they’re not there. 

He thought, and the grip around him loosened, just slightly. 

He thought about volleyball. The rise and fall of his heartbeat. The cleansing beads of sweat rolling down his face, and the sweet sensation of unclogging the sweat from his hair post-match. The weightlessness of being able to forget the oppressive trappings of his own mind.

The pressure remained where his ribs met halfway, but the claws of this feeling receded.

He thought about Atsumu. About nights waiting for him outside of conbinis, wiping down plastic wrappers before sinking his teeth into meat buns on the way back from practice. About the other man’s insecurity, hidden beneath tissue paper layers of arrogance and pride. About stolen glances over the table at celebratory dinners, teasing remarks and probing questions. About an empty cup of coffee next to his empty cup of tea. 

He thought about sharing rooms for away games, sleeping on his shoulder on the bus, brushing teeth side by side.  
He thought about bleaching hair in another person’s flat. He thought about the way he could feel his fingers whispering against Atsumu’s neck as he dyed his hair, the other man’s warmth penetrating through the plastic gloves.

He thought about that kiss, lips gently pressing to his behind a barrier of two masks, and thought about the fact that that moment had never yet been acknowledged. He thought about the giddy fear he felt, remembering that moment. That moment and this one, as Kiyoomi touched the tip of a bare finger to the smooth expanse of skin stretched across Atsumu’s hand. Kiyoomi heard Atsumu’s small breath as it rattled its way in and then back out of his lungs. He turned his head slowly until Atsumu appeared in his peripheral vision. He said lowly, only loud enough to inhabit the space in between them, “I think I’m a lonely person. I think I have been, for a long time. And it feels like a weight against my chest, pressing down around me. You... Being around you doesn’t fix it, but it makes it easier to deal with.”

He flattened his palm to curve over Atsumu’s hand, and felt their fingers intertwine.

Time lulled between them, until it rushed with great speed, chasing after the departing sun. They bade the sun farewell, and greeted it in the morning, once again, hand in hand.

**Author's Note:**

> I already really like Sakusa and even tho I’m nothing like him, I really relate to him. I don’t have mysophobia, but I do have ocd, and they work in really similar ways so I’ll probably be writing more sakuatsu in the future. I have some ideas, but only time will tell if I actually develop them or not :/
> 
> thanks so much for reading tho!!!


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